Aalon held back from making a choice to leave or continue as curator of N’rellia.

As he initially saw things, no one had yet arrived at the school to audit their actions or enrolees, and the school was down to running in summer mode. Meaning no students, only maintenance staff, and those few professors who wished to work on something or use the resources in their office.

A month before, he had watched The 500 (how he yearly and traditionally referred to his graduating charges) make the walk from front side seating, stroll around to the left of the dais, climb the same five stairs, and approach he and their particular faculty advisor, who would actually hand the student their diploma.

His mind yearned to and succeeded in flashing back in time: a month before, Llhaesa casually and confidently strolled to the podium and delivered an address that still gave him goose bumps when the memory flooded his mind. Here was this tall but wispy achiever, her curly, dirty blonde hair occasionally blowing in front of her face in the summer breeze, standing there respectfully challenging her student peers – and a world – to a societal makeover.

She spoke with such clarity and eloquence; projecting her voice so all could clearly hear, pitch and tone changing to emphasise a point, lowering in sadness when she shared some indignity incurred by those who had no audience, only their assigned tasks to complete – or else.

What really mattered claimed the young, wise one… was not the horrors of the past, for they could not be undone. What mattered was how they approached the here and now, the future. Would they let the memory of the past only move them to tears and frustration, or would they use it for inspiration, for good purpose, use it to see to it that no being ever again suffered such indignities?

“Will you join with me?” rang around in his head. Those last five words closed her address, and while spoken just loud enough for the audience to hear, served as a statement of where she was going; if anyone wished to go with her, they would be welcomed.

She closed by walking to a piano, flipping open the keyboard cover, and launching into a lively rendition of a medley of three ancient Arrhazonan folk songs. At one with the piano, she started conservatively, but soon was off of the bench, playing with reckless abandon, turning to play for almost a full minute with her back to the piano. Llhaesa later left the back-to-piano move in the dust by entering a figure skating like spin, striking each key in the fraction of a second she was facing the keyboard. A move that in the moment was almost like watching someone play under the influence of a strobe light. Llhaesa must have spun fully 50 times around before swirling out of it with hands reaching back to the keyboard, never once even seeming to lose her balance or be off kilter.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, she ended the medley with a very emphatic striking of B, 3 octaves below middle C.

In all his years of overseeing the Conservatory, Aalon had never witnessed a student having the sheer confidence – bordering on audaciousness – to play as Llhaesa played. Yet she pulled it off, as if he had any doubt in her ability to do so. He laughed at his own thoughts, for his was a musical perspective. Setting aside music, Aalon understood that Llhaesa’s moves and playing seemed close to physically impossible.

For the friends and family of the graduates there on that day… they were probably still talking about what they heard and witnessed.

Aalon well knew Llhaesa’s true potential: he had no doubt whatsoever that left alone and allowed to hone and follow her natural inclinations, she would one day lead this world.

And that thought brought him full circle. Given the ominous clouds forming over Arrhazon, she would never be allowed to hone her skills and outlook. As curator of N’rellia, he had to follow protocols and remain within a defined and predictable setting, for the good of the school, for the expectations of students, their families, alumni, and faculty. If Aalon resigned from N’rellia, he would have more options. He had a myriad of connections, had rendered many a favour and assistance to others over the years, and by his choice, were not repaid.

If he left, he could work in subtle ways without suspicion, without scrutiny, and assist his favourite former student.

Unfortunately, all of his noble efforts would prove insufficient.